


In Short - Prompts

by threeplusfire



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:39:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles from tumblr, pretty wide ranging various AU ideas. Nothing terribly explicit, but may contain adult themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice”

It was late, somewhere between midnight and dawn. The party had wound down some time earlier, people stumbling down the stairs and out the door. Smith had stayed behind, helping Ross pick up some of the mess of beer bottles and cups left everywhere around his flat.

Their desultory attempts to clean were abandoned in favor of sitting on the sofa drinking the last of the booze while Ross scrolled through the music on his phone. He groaned and just let the song play, too tired and too drunk to think clearly about what would be the best choice for this hour of the night. 

Smith stretched his legs out, and leaned his head on his arm. He watched Ross, drowsy and content. The way he frowned at his phone, chewing on his lip - it was so familiar and so comforting.  

_“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,”_ Ross said, setting his phone down on the table. His voice was steady.

“Sorry, what?” yawned Smith. He blinked, and Ross looked at him sideways. His lips curved up in the slightest smirk.

“I’ve _seen_ you,” Ross repeated. He leaned back into the cushions, turning just enough to look at Smith. His arm stretched across the back of the sofa. Their hands were almost close enough to touch.

The silence stretched out for a long time, and Smith almost wondered if he had imagined the comment. 

“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Ross. He laced his fingers with Smith’s and shifted closer on the sofa. Before he was quite sure what he was doing, Smith found himself staring very closely at Ross’ face. He could see the tiny, tiny freckles on his face, and the cut in his lip where he bit it too hard during Trials yesterday. 

“Are you ever going to kiss me, or are you just going to stare?” Ross brought his other hand up to stroke through Smith’s messy hair. Smith considered a lot of answers, most of them bad jokes. Verbal sparring felt like too much effort right now though. It was late, and there was only the hall light on still. Ross’ phone switched to another song. Smith pushed himself forward, and kissed him.


	2. I've seen the way you look at me - V2.0

Ross chewed on his lip, trying to hide his smile as he listened to Smith and Sips bicker in the backseat of his car. For once, Trott had managed to win the fight for shotgun, and so they shared an amused glance as Sips’ voice rose.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” Sips drawled, leaning his head back against the seat.

“What?” Smith sputtered. “You’re imagining things.”

“I may be old, Smiffy, but I’m not blind.”

Smith continued to protest, shifting around in his seat and kicking Ross’ seat in the process.

“For fuck’s sake, Smith,” Ross said under his breath.

“Give up,” laughed Trott. “You’re so obvious, Smith.”

“Fuck off, all of you.” Smith kicked the seat again.

“I’m just saying, you’re not very subtle about it.” Sips looked out the window at the rapidly passing scenery. “If you want me to join your little fuck buddy party, all you gotta do is ask.”

Ross and Trott exchanged glances, eyebrows raised. They both mouthed  seriously? at the same time. Ross jerked his eyes back to the road and the traffic.

“Seriously?” Smith asked. He stared at Sips, surprised.

“Yup.” Sips put his hands behind his head, and smiled. 


	3. I can't do this on my own

Kim’s hands shook as she opened the door. It wasn’t that she expected anything bad on the other side. The safe house was secure. But she was worn down, exhausted from from doing recon in the ruined city. She checked the locks mindlessly, going through the routine motions as she usually did. The air scrubbers whined, filtering out the smoke from the outside. At least the solar cells were still pulling down enough power to keep things running for now.

“Of all the damn luck,” she muttered to herself. She wondered if anyone had known their mission was going to happen smack dab in the midst of the planet’s worst conflict in a century. They were lucky the ship hadn’t gotten blown out of the sky, considering how many missiles must have been flying back and forth when they entered the atmosphere. Hopefully no one had even noticed their tiny blip on the radar. Kim didn’t like to remember that flight, the horrifying lurch in her stomach as the ship activated defensive flight patterns to avoid everything in the sky. At least their safe house building hadn’t been hit, and she managed to land the ship safely.

During the past two days, Kim hadn’t slept as as she piloted the ship to the safe house and set up their base of operations, as well as scouting out the local damage. They were as safe and unseen as she could hope for, given the circumstances. Time for the rest of her team to start contributing, she thought. At least it would be good to hear a familiar voice or three. She washed her hands and face in the tepid water from the basin, watching the ash and grit swirl down the drain. Picking up a protein bar, she climbed into the ship. The lab was quiet aside from the steady hum of the machines keeping the rest of her team in suspended animation. She checked their vital signs on the monitor, always secretly relieved to find them steady. Tapping her fingers on her arm, she decided to wake Trott up first. He could help her with the other two. Smith especially tended to be cranky and useless right after waking up. Ross once punched Smith, an action he later explained as thinking he was still in some nightmare. Kim wondered about that. She never dreamed inside the pods.

“You need to wake up,” Kim whispered, punching in the codes. “I can’t do this on my own.” The screen flashed warnings, and the lights on the stasis pods flickered from steady white to green. 


	4. Are you jealous?

“Why are you going to dinner with them?”

“Cause they invited me, and Lewis will pay for dinner,” Sips said with a laugh. “Do you even have to ask?”

“But I thought you were coming over so we could hang out,” grumbled Smith.

“Smiffy, we’ve been hanging out all day,” Sips pointed out in that patient voice of his. On his way out the door to get a cup of tea, Ross stifled a laugh. Smith shot him a dirty look.

“We’ve been working all day, that’s different,” Smith huffed. He clicked irritably on the video he was editing.

“Yeah, playing video games all day, real brutal schedule we got there. I’m going to have to go sit in the dark for an hour or two to recover.” Rolling his eyes, Sips grabbed his jacket off the sofa.

“You’re such an asshole,” Smith muttered, sinking into his chair with a disgruntled look. “Enjoy your mediocre dinner, we’re having pizza. Pizza that Ross is going to cook, which you could be eating, but no.”

_ “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” _ Sips tilted his head to the side, curious.

“No.” Smith flushed, and tugged on the drawstring of his hoodie. He accidentally closed his video, clicking at random on his screen.

“You’re jealous, awww! That’s adorable Smiffy.” Sips walked over to hug him with an enormous grin.

On the other side of the room, Trott held a hand over his mouth and tried to muffle his laughter. 


	5. Wanna bet?

Trott pulled at Sips’ elbow, jostling his drink.

“Hey, watch it!” Sips switched his plastic cup to his other hand, stepping backwards into his friend. He made a face, annoyed and puzzled.

“Come with me,” Trott hissed, almost inaudible under the music and voices filling the room.

“Am I going to enjoy this more than watching Smiffy and Strippin arm wrestle?” laughed Sips. Trott looked over his shoulder, and jerked his head towards the door.

“Wanna bet?”

“Sure, whatever Trott.” He followed Trott down the stairs, away from the noisy chaos of the party. The lower floor was quiet, only a few lights on in the offices. The faint sound of the music faded away.

“This better be good,” Sips grumbled as he finished off the last of his drink.

“Believe me, it is.” Trott laughed. He pulled Sips into the shared office and shut the door behind them. They were close in the almost complete darkness, Trott’s fingers still loosely clasped around Sips’ wrist. There was just enough time for Sips to wonder if this was just some really drawn out prank before he felt Trott pull him down into a kiss.


	6. Hey, I was gonna eat that!

Saturday morning was Alex’s favorite time of the week. No work to wake up to, and the uninterrupted span of the weekend stretched ahead. He enjoyed wearing his pajamas until well past noon, eating breakfast on the sofa and generally being lazy.

Stretching out on the sofa was a lot easier when someone else wasn’t crowding you for it. Ross was also a big fan of Saturday morning laziness, and they had an unspoken war going for control of the sofa cushions. Alex currently sprawled on his back, taking up most of the available space. It meant he didn’t have control of the remote, but it was tactically superior as he couldn’t be pushed off without some effort. Alex wriggled his feet, earning a glare from Ross sitting at the other end of the sofa.

“Stop kicking me,” Ross grumbled.

“I’m not!” Alex protested. “Just stretching my feet, mate.” He grinned, poking one foot into Ross’ hip.

“If you make me spill, I’m going to end you,” threatened Ross, lifting his mug higher.

“You can try,” Alex chuckled.

Ross rolled his eyes and leaned over to grab the last toast off Smith’s plate.

_“Hey! I was gonna eat that!"_

“You’ve already had, what, three pieces?” Ross took a bite and turned his attention back to the television.

“But I’m still hungry,” Alex complained, putting on a mournful expression.

“Go make more.”

“You go make more, you ate the last piece.”

“I made the toast in the first place,” Ross pointed out with a smug look. “So really it was my toast all along.”

“You’re awful to me.”

“I am,” agreed Ross, brushing crumbs off his legs. Alex watched him for a few moments, nibbling at the crust of the toast and watching some old episode of Top Gear. He looked scruffy and sleepy, and Alex was uncomfortably aware of how much he wanted to kiss Ross. His mouth was dry suddenly, and Alex shifted onto his side.

“What?” asked Ross, glancing at him.

“Nothing,” Alex said. “You want some more tea?”

“Please.” Ross smiled at him, completely unaware of Alex’s turmoil.

 


	7. So I found this waterfall

_ “So, I found this waterfall…”  _ Ross looked over towards Trott, sitting on his bed cross legged with his laptop. “I was thinking we could build there.”

“Sorry, what?” Trott looked up, a distracted look to his face.

“The minecraft server, I think I found a good spot to build.”

“Right, sounds great.”

Trott looked back down at his screen, distractedly brushing his hair back. His glasses reflected the screen, smears of light that didn’t give Ross any idea what held his attention. Ross leaned back in his desk chair, watching him type until he felt a twinge in his neck from the angle. 

Giving up for the evening, Ross logged out of the game. He left his music running though, and checked his email. After ten minutes of aimless clicking, Ross pushed away from his desk. Crawling onto the bed beside Trott, he tried not to jostle the laptop as he pressed his face into Trott’s hip. Ross felt Trott’s fingers on his head, ruffling his hair and trailing down to the back of his neck. Eyes closed, he dozed as Trott continued to type in silence. From time to time, he would stroke Ross’ hair. 

“It’s probably time to eat something.” Trott’s voice startled Ross out of his doze. He blinked, rolling over onto his back. Trott traced the red mark on his cheek, a crease from Trott’s jeans.

“What time is it?” asked Ross, his voice rough with sleep.

“Quarter to eight,” Trott said. The laptop was closed, sitting on the other side of the bed.

“How long have I been asleep?” Ross stretched his arms over his head, feeling the pins and needles from too long in one position.

“Not long.” Trott combed his fingers through Ross’ hair, only managing to make it messier.

 


	8. You did what??

_ “You did what??” _

“Well, it was kind of an accident…” Trott trailed off, trying not to laugh at the horrified look on Ross’ face.

“How is it an accident, Trott? How?” shouted Ross.

“Well, we didn’t plan on it or anything!” Trott crossed his arms. “It just sort of… happened, I guess?”

“On my sofa?” Ross groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Look-”

“Nope, I’m just going to have to burn the sofa.” Ross turned around, staring at the offending piece of furniture.

“That’s a little extreme,” chuckled Trott.

“I’m not going to be able to sit on it without remembering that you were naked on it, Trott.”

“I was wearing my socks, technically.”

“Oh, that makes it all better,” Ross said sarcastically. “Was Smith wearing socks too? Wait, no, don’t answer that, I don’t want that picture in my head.”

“Smith was totally naked.” Trott ducked when Ross chucked a cushion at him.

“What if we get you a cover for it? We could wrap it in plastic?” His cheeks were starting to hurt from grinning so much.

“You are the worst friend I’ve ever had,” declared Ross. He groaned and sat down on the floor. Trott followed his example, more out of friendship than any concern for the sofa. 

“I can’t believe you fucked Smith on my sofa,” Ross said after a few minutes of silence.

“Sorry,” apologized Trott, quite insincerely. He was still smiling. Ross looked over at him, and laughed. 


	9. Space Marines

Smith groaned at the sight of their quarters for the journey out to Mars.

“Bottom bunk,” he demanded as he shouldered Hornby aside. “I’m not hitting my head on the goddamn ceiling every time.”

“Fine, I’ll sleep up there.” Trott slung his bag onto the bed and boosted himself up. Smith dropped face first into the lower mattress.

“Wonder who we’re getting in here then,” Hornby mused as he sat down on the other bed. It was a cramped little room, and he wondered why they made such tiny beds when they knew they would be crammed full of Marines. He did not like these transport ships. Their artificial gravity was usually shit, and the food was worse than any backwater station. 

“As long as they don’t vomit everywhere like that Jones kid,” Trott laughed. “Remember that guy? I can’t believe he didn’t manage to puke up an internal organ or two.”

“How do you get into the goddamn Marines if you get sick in space?” Smith rolled over, rumpling his uniform and stretching out on the bunk. He was about to unfasten his trousers when the door clicked open.

“Holy shit, Lovasz!” Trott crowed. “They let you on here after all!”

“In the flesh, you assholes.” Lovasz dropped his bag on the floor. “Hope you left me the good bunk, I don’t want to sleep with Smiffy here.”

“Fuck you,” Smith laughed, making an obscene gesture with one hand.

“Top bunk’s all yours.” Hornby licked his lips, trying not to smile.

“See, this is why I like you, you pay attention.” Lovasz slung his arm around Hornby. Trott rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. “No you’re right Trott. I do like him because he’s the best cocksucker in the group.”

“Some of us are just naturally talented,” Hornby said smugly.

“Are you serious?” Smith groaned. “I could beat you with my hands tied behind my back.”

“That is something I want to watch,” Trott said, peering down at Smith.

“They aren’t going to do roll call for at least another hour,” Lovasz pointed out. “We got time to settle this.”

 


	10. Teachers

Alex handed Ross a cup of coffee, and for a long time they sat in the pleasant morning silence. Sunlight felt like a minor miracle after weeks of rain. Alex was glad enough to just sit there, enjoying the early light and the sound of birds.  
“It’s not that early,” he said, trying not to laugh.  
Ross just grunted and sipped at his coffee. He squinted at the empty parking lot behind the school and closed his eyes again.  
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this,” grumbled Ross. He leaned back against the brick wall.  
Alex reached into the paper sack for another doughnut. He loved the autumn carnival the school put on every year. When the principal asked for someone to volunteer to supervise the students setting up booths, Alex volunteered them both on the spot. Ross hadn’t minded until he realized it meant being up at the school early on a Saturday morning.  
“I promise, this is going to be fun.” Alex bumped his shoulder into Ross. “Want a doughnut?”  
“Mmm, only if it is chocolate.” Ross smiled slightly, eyes still closed. “Wake me up when you find it.” He leaned over, letting his head rest on Alex’s shoulder.  
Alex looked sideways at him, feeling that little flip of happiness in his stomach.  
“Morning, Mr. Smith! Good morning Mr. Hornby!” called one of his students, just a little too loudly. Ross jerked upright, cursing under his breath. A few students stood on the sidewalk, watching them with poorly concealed amusement.  
“Morning!” Alex clambered to his feet. “Who wants doughnuts?”


	11. Arranged Marriages

Kim laughed. The sound was bright, high pitched and a bit too loud in the crowded little bedroom.

_“Look, let me explain-”_ Chris said, yanking Alex’s hand away from his zipper. Behind him, Ross tried to hide himself behind Alex without much success.

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure I know exactly what this is,” Kim grinned. Chris paused, staring at her with no small amount of confusion.

“I kind of expected you to do more yelling, and less laughing,” he admitted. Alex sighed, handing Ross a pair of jeans from the floor.

“How long have we known each other?” she asked, spinning the desk chair around.

“Since we were babies.” Chris shrugged, reaching for his shirt. He smacked Alex on the leg, gesturing for him to put some clothes on as well.

“Basically forever, yeah?” Kim sat down, still smiling. “You could have just told me.”

“Like what?” Chris snorted. “Hey, I know our parents arranged our marriage before we could even really talk, but have you ever considered a foursome?”

“Well, yes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why not?”


	12. Coffee

Smith hummed to himself, taking mugs out of the cabinet while the kettle heated. Ross was so particular about the coffee, and Smith was determined to make it just the way he usually did. That way everyone would be happy, and he could be a bit smug about it as well. So far, it just seemed to involve a lot of counting in his head. Count the seconds while the grinder pulverized the beans. Count the scoops of coffee grounds into the french press. Count the cups of water and stir, then wait an interminable six minutes for it to brew. Smith leaned on the counter, staring at the pot and counting the seconds in his head.

“What are you doing?” asked Ross, standing in the doorway to their tiny kitchen. He was flushed and sweaty from his run, that goofy sweatband on his head reminding Smith of 80s music videos.

“Making coffee,” Smith replied.

“Did you time-”

Smith laughed and pressed the plunger down slowly.

“Yes, I did.” Smith picked up Ross’ favorite mug, the red one, and filled it most of the way. He counted out three spoonfuls of sugar and two seconds of milk. 

Ross’ eyes flicked over to him as he took a sip, and Smith felt a tiny thrill. He tried not to stare, instead filling mugs for Trott and himself.

“Good job,” said Ross, unexpectedly close. Smith grinned as he felt Ross’ fingers brushing the hair off the back of his neck. He twisted around as Ross pushed him up against the edge of the sink. 

“Oh come _on_ ,” groaned Trott. “Ross, get in the shower, we have a meeting at ten!” He stood in the hallway, buttoning up his shirt impatiently. 

“Sorry.” Ross kissed Smith apologetically, and carried his mug off to the shower.

“Coffee?” offered Smith, holding a cup out to Trott. 


	13. Caught in the rain

Ross was fairly sure it was never going to stop raining. He was also fairly sure they were lost. Blaming it on Alex felt a bit petty, but he was cold and wet and tired and things were either about to become ridiculous or a horror movie. Ross had only agreed to go on this little wander through the wilderness because Alex made big eyes at him and promised they’d be back before Chris woke up from his jet lag. So here they were, wandering in some godforsaken forest in the rain. Probably about to be eaten by wolves or something. Ross was so busy constructing various scenarios of impending doom that he didn’t notice Alex had stopped. He crashed into him, and they both stumbled.

“I think there’s a building up there.” Alex pointed up the slope of the hill. Beside him, Ross squinted at the trees.

“I don’t see anything,” he grumbled. Wolves. Maybe wild boars. Eaten by wild boars sounded like a terrible way to go.

“Come on, let’s check,” Alex said, pulling at his arm. The rain stuck his hair in little curls to his forehead and neck. Ross wanted to kiss him, even if it was raining and miserable and they were probably about to be eaten by a bear. Maybe he could get away with kissing Alex if they were about to die.

Ross trudged up the hill, cursing every time water dripped into his eyes. His trainers slid in the wet leaves and grass. Alex grabbed his hand and hauled him up the last several feet. Ross held on, even when he was steady on his feet again.

It turned out to be some little bit of ruin, half a little stone building tucked in between the trees. It was shelter though, and Ross was glad of a little bit of dry ground. He leaned against a wall, while Alex poked around using his phone as a flashlight.

“Nothing,” Alex sighed.

“At least we’re out of the rain,” Ross pointed out. He dug his phone out of his pocket. Miracle of miracles, they had service. He shot Chris a grumpy text.

_ Trapped in woods in some ruin with Smith, probably going to be eaten by bears _

_ Idiots - Have you kissed him yet? _

Ross frowned at his phone, and glanced at Alex. He was still prowling around, poking the walls as if treasure might fall out at any moment.

_ No too busy being wet and miserable _

_ Kiss him already you twat _

Ross made a little noise of frustration.

“What’s up?” Alex appeared beside him and Ross jumped, nearly dropping his phone.

“Trott said we’re twats.”

Alex laughed. Somehow he looked good even half soaked, attractively rumpled. Ross caught himself staring and hastily shoved his phone in his pocket. Alex put his chin on Ross’ shoulder.

“I think I know where we are, so if you want to just wait out the rain…”

“Sure.” Ross licked his lips, feeling Smith lean on him. He shivered.

“Cold?” Alex asked. He put his arms around Ross’ shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Ross nodded. He was about to say something when Alex’s phone chimed. Ross stared out the ruined side of the building into the dripping forest.

“Trott just sent me a text message wanting to know if we’ve kissed yet.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ross groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the flush in his face.

 


	14. Good thing you're pretty

“Fuck, fuck, _fucking_ fuck!” Ross stared at the paper target in irritation and dismay.

“I think you’re actually getting worse at this,” Smith said in a thoughtful voice.  “That’s kind of impressive.”

“Eat shit, “ Ross muttered. He leveled the gun again and squinted. He could do this. He did this all the time. In video games. This wasn’t so different. Ross held his breath.

“You are terrible,” Smith chuckled. “How are you so bad at this?”

“I don’t know,” Ross groaned.

“Good thing you’re pretty.” Smith slapped him on the ass as he took the airsoft gun away from Ross. 


	15. Victoriana

Church bells rang out in the early morning, and Ross listened to them with his eyes closed. He was profoundly grateful their landlady didn’t insist on regular church attendance. It meant Sunday mornings were a paradise of hours he could spend in bed if he wanted.

The room he shared was essentially an attic, crammed with a strange collection of ancient furniture and trunks. Ross loved the light from the big slanted windows that looked out over the Kensington roof tops.

Yawning, Ross opened his eyes. He wanted to get up and sketch in the morning light. But Chris had an arm wrapped around his waist, and his head on Ross’ shoulder. On the other side of Chris, all he could see of Alex as his bright auburn hair. The rest of him was buried in blankets.  

Winter meant the attic was frigid, and water would sometimes freeze in the basin overnight. Ross, Chris and Alex had quickly decided it was preferable to push their narrow beds together and huddle for warmth. Which meant even though he could smell the snow falling outside, it was cozy underneath the pile of quilts with the heat of three bodies. 

Ross shifted a little, making himself more comfortable. No reason to get up just yet, he thought.


	16. The best of friends

“How long have you known each other?” asked Ross. Head pillowed on one arm, he stretched out on Trott’s bed.

“Forever,” Trott snorted. “Since we were thirteen or so? I forget. It feels like forever, though.” He picked up the clothes from the floor, tossing everything into a laundry basket.

“Does he know?”

“Yeah.” Trott kicked his shoes under the bed. “He’s always been cool about it. I’m not sure Smith’s completely straight, really.” He laughed, thinking about that. With his luck, Smith would show up and spend the entire weekend shamelessly flirting with Ross while being inappropriately touchy feely with himself. Trott looked around his room. Clean enough, he decided.

Trott climbed onto the bed, burying his face in Ross’ chest and inhaling the bright, citrus smell that was his aftershave.

“Will I like him?” Ross wondered aloud.

“You’re either going to love him or hate him.” 

“What if I fall in love with him?” Ross’ voice was teasing, and Trott could hear him trying not to laugh.

“Is this your subtle way of telling me you want to have a threesome?” Trott poked him in the ribs.

“Well, if he’s good looking…” Ross cackled as Trott began pummeling him in mock outrage. “I take it back!”

“You’re a terrible boyfriend.”

“You should probably dump me, hook up with your friend Smith instead.”

“I’m already regretting the idea of introducing the two of you,” Trott huffed. “You’re just going to gang up on me.”

“Probably,” Ross agreed. He wrapped his arms around Trott, and pressed his face into Trott’s hair. The curled closer together, eyes closed.


	17. On the Western Edge of the World

Sunset came slow, the sky shading through brilliant reds and golds. Smith let his horse amble slowly, picking a path through the purpletop grass back to the house. The evening was quiet, just a few mockingbirds singing out their riot of mismatched songs. Smith whistled at them, just to hear them repeat his song back.

“Where have you been?” Ross asked. He was brushing his own horse in the barn. Smith pulled his horse to a stop and sat there a moment, just watching. Ross looked sideways at him. From this angle, Smith could see the scar usually covered by the collar of his shirt. 

“Just looking around,” Smith answered, dismounting. He still had a sunburn stripe across his nose.

“You know Trott hates it when you go off on your own,” Ross continued. “It’s not exactly safe.”

“Don’t worry, there’s no one out there but coyotes and rabbits and maybe a deer if we’re lucky.” Which they weren’t, Smith thought as he put the rifle against his shoulder. He’d only ridden so far today because he thought he might find something worth eating.

Ross looked up and shook his head.

“Go inside, I’ve got the horse.” Ross reached for the reins, and their hands touched for just a moment. Long enough to make him smile though.

Trott was inside, building a small fire against the chill that lingered in early spring. He glanced over his shoulder at Smith.

“No luck?” he asked, turning back to the fireplace.

“I’ll go out earlier tomorrow, maybe flush something at dawn.” Smith set his rifle down carefully against the wall.

“Might have better luck riding back to Montgomery.”

“And what, asking for credit?” Smith snorted. 

“We need to go anyways.” Trott shrugged. Everyone was hungry and cranky, and sick to death of eating beans by the end of winter. If Smith thought he had a chance in hell of shooting something worth eating, then Trott was just going to let him try. The alternative was listening to him complain.

Grumbling to himself, Smith dropped down beside him. Trott leaned his head on Smith’s shoulder, listening for the sound of Ross’ boots on the porch steps. 

 


	18. Pickup Basketball

Panting, Ross lunged forward for the ball. It was close, just barely out of reach. He flung an arm forward, and missed it by a breath. With a shouted curse, Ross pulled his arm back and smacked right into another player. 

“Fuck!” Ross shouted, grabbing his elbow. It throbbed with that weird, tingly pain from catching right over the bone. Over the sounds of the rest of the guys fighting for the ball and leaping towards the net, he heard a strangled obscenity. Ross shook his arm, and looked up.

“Fuck,” he repeated, staring at the guy he’d managed to elbow right in the face. He was a little shorter than Ross, and currently bleeding all over the place. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Eh?” The guy looked at him, then touched his mouth again. Blood welled up from a split lip, running down his chin to drop onto the court.

“Trott!” shouted one of the other guys, jogging back from the end of the court. “What are you doing, ball’s that way-” He broke off when saw the blood. 

“I’m so sorry-” Ross began, reaching towards Trott. 

“It’s fine,” Trott waved a hand, wincing as he spoke.

“At least let me get you a towel.” Ross put a hand on his arm and jerked his head towards the benches beside the court. He fumbled through his duffel bag, and pulled out a clean towel. Trott sank heavily down on the bench, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as he held the towel to his mouth. Ross studied him for a moment. He felt incredibly bad, because he was pretty sure he’d never seen this guy before. He would have remembered the face, high cheekbones and the hair that threatened to fall forward over his eyes. 

“Six years of judo, and I get my face busted playing basketball,” Trott laughed suddenly. His eyes opened, and for a moment they were staring directly at each other. Ross blushed, and looked down into his bag.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized again. 

“Nice to meet you, sorry, I’m Chris Trott.” 

“Did you just?” Ross looked up, brow furrowed. Trott laughed.

“Couldn’t help it, I have a mate who does that dad joke shit all the time. What is your name, really?”

“Ross, Ross Hornby.”

“Hell of a way to meet a guy, throwing your elbow right in his face.”

“Look, that was an accident, let me buy you dinner or something to make up for it.”

Trott cocked his head to one side, a considering look on his face. Ross flushed, suddenly aware that it sounded an awful lot like asking for a date. He plucked nervously at the front of his shirt, self conscious about the sweat running down his back and the mess his hair no doubt was after running up and down the court for the past thirty minutes or so.

“Yeah,” Trott said. “Alright. Let’s do that.” He smiled, and even with the busted lip it made Ross’ heart beat a little faster.


	19. Shh I think I hear something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> X-Files AU for the 300 word prompt challenge

Smith cursed under his breath, bumping into Trott for the third or maybe fifth time. He kept stepping on the backs of Trott’s shoes, trying to keep close in the dark. He hated the woods at night. They were too dark, and creepy, and it was an incredibly dumb idea to be out here anyways.

“Shh, I think I hear something.” Trott swatted at him without turning around. His flashlight uselessly illuminated a few feet ahead of them.

“Turn that off, whatever’s out there can see exactly where we are,” Smith hissed.

“How the fuck are we going to see anything without the flashlight?” Trott hissed back, swinging the light back and forth. A heavy cracking sound made them both freeze. Smith’s heart hammered in his throat. Something crashed through the brush, the sound coming ominously closer to them.

Something large, with red eyes leaped from between the trees. Smith screamed, fumbling for his weapon as Trott stumbled back to draw his own. The flashlight swung crazily as Smith grabbed Trott’s arm, and they both fell sideways into the brush. Leaves and thorns scraped at Smith’s skin and he yelped.

“Goddamn it Smith!” Trott nearly smacked him in the head with the flashlight. “It was a fucking elk, you idiot!”

“Fuck,” Smith groaned. They thrashed through the prickly branches to stand in the clearing between the trees.

“I hate the woods,” Smith muttered.

“Yeah, I know.” Trott brushed at his jacket. “You’re the one who wanted to do some field work, so here we are.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to be out here in the dark!”

“We don’t have a lot of time, so if you’re done whining…”

Smith flipped Trott off, still following a little too closely behind him as they followed the path deeper into the woods.


	20. I can't remember the last time I was this happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad Baker and Thieves AU, 300 word challenge

Ross let the door fall shut with a thump, and hung his coat up on the rack in the front hall. The autumn air was crisp, and the walk from the bus had given his cheeks a flush.

“Smith, are you home?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Ross followed the sound of his voice into the living room. Smith was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, playing with a small, yellow puppy.

“Why do you have a dog in the house? Trott is going to freak.”

“He’s your dog,” Smith said, leaning back with a grin.

“What?” Ross knelt down, holding a hand out. The dog sniffed him, and padded eagerly over to Ross to put his paws on Ross’ knees.

“You’ve said before how you wanted to have a dog when you were a kid, and I was thinking, we have a yard and everything here so why not get a dog?” Smith looked very pleased.

“Did you steal him?” Ross asked anxiously.

“No!” Smith frowned. “I mean, not really. Look. Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered.” He watched Ross scoop the dog up into his arms, his expression softening as the puppy nuzzled and sniffed him. A tear rolled down Ross’ cheek.

“Are you okay?” Smith asked, worry creasing his brow. “Ross, are you _crying_?!?”

“I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.” Ross’ voice was muffled, his face pressed into the puppy’s fur.

“Okay, but you’re crying and that’s kind of weird.”

“I’m sorry.” Ross hiccuped. “Thank you.” The puppy twisted around and started to lick his face.

“What are you going to call him?” Smith asked.

“Biscuit,” Ross said.

“What?”

“Because he’s warm.” Ross unzipped his hoodie, and tucked the puppy inside. “He’s golden, and soft, and warm, like a perfect biscuit.”


	21. Great, how are we supposed to get home now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chimera Strip club AU, 300 word challenge

Watching the tail lights recede as the car noisily fishtailed down the road, Sips stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. The light at the end of the block was red but the car didn’t stop.

“Great, how are we going to get home now?” Sips grumbled. The movie theater marquee shone brightly above them, advertising a run of Kurosawa films.

“We could find the bus…” Ross trailed off under Sips’ withering stare.

“Fuck that.” Sips glanced around the block, and started walking. The sound of his boots contrasted with the click of Ross’ heels on the sidewalk.

“Sorry,” Ross mumbled, sunk into the fluffy collar of his coat.

“Ross, you gotta start dating better guys. Or stop inviting me along for your dates. What were you thinking?”

“That it would be fun to introduce him to my friends, hang out.” Ross laughed sharply. “Guess not.”

Sips sighed, and glanced sideways at his much younger friend. Ross wore his favorite heeled suede boots, and towered over Sips even hunched into his winter coat. The wind gusted fitfully, sharp and cold.

“Look, let’s go get a bite and then we’ll call a cab or something.”

“I’m sorry, I really thought…” Ross sniffled.

“Ross.” Sips sighed, and stopped. He reached out to lift Ross’ chin. “Your boyfriend is a total dick. Fuck that guy. I mean, don’t fuck that guy anymore but also don’t give him anymore of your fucking time, alright?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay. Come on, sweetness, I’m starving, and I bet you are too.” Sips hugged him tightly, and wondered just how he’d let himself get here. With one arm around Ross’ waist, Sips started walking. If there was any luck, they’d find a diner and he could have a cup of coffee while they waited for a cab.


	22. Shh you're safe now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-War AU, 300 word challenge

They sat in silence, passing the cigarette back and forth between them. The faint noises of the city outside intruded, a bell, the shouts of some wandering children, the heavy rumble of a cart or a truck passing in the street below.

Ross dozed off again in the early light of morning. He slumped in a chair dragged to the side of the bed. Trott had left for work some hours ago, thanking him quietly with a squeeze of his shoulder.

“Nnno, no!” Smith’s garbled shout startled him awake, and Ross jerked upright. On the bed, Smith thrashed in his blanket, fist clenched as he knocked the pillow away.

“Smith, Smith, wake up, c’mon.” Ross stood, leaning over the bed. He tried not to grab him, in case it only startled him more. There was no telling if he was still drunk, having a nightmare or just reliving the events of the night before. Grunting, Smith swung out as if to push someone away, mumbling something that sounded angry or frightened.

“Shh, you’re safe now.” Ross carefully put a hand on Smith’s forehead. His eyes opened, wide and bloodshot. The blue stood out vividly against the bruise.

“Trott?” Smith asked, his voice so plaintive it twisted Ross’ heart into a little knot.

“Trott had to go to work, you’re stuck with me.” Ross sat on the edge of the bed, helping Smith unravel himself and sit up against the bedstead. He pressed a glass of water into Smith’s hand.

“Ross,” Smith rasped, breaking into a cough. “Don’t suppose you have a cigarette?”

“Yeah, mate.” Ross pulled his pouch out of a jacket pocket, rolling one on his knee while Smith chugged the water and rubbed at his face. Ross hoped Trott wouldn’t be mad about Smith smoking in the bedroom.


	23. I need you to talk to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampire whorehouse AU, 300 word challenge

“I need you to talk to me,” Trott said, ripping off the rest of Ross’ long sleeve shirt. It was soaked, and pieces of glass fell out when he shook the ragged fabric.

“Ross? Talk to me.”

“Sorry,” Ross mumbled. “Hurts.” His breath stuttered after the word, and he leaned against the bar. Alcohol dripped from the broken bottle and glasses on the bartop, the sharp smell of vodka mixed with blood.

Trott grimaced, looking at the ragged bite mark at the juncture of Ross’ neck and shoulder. Blood oozed, almost black in the purplish light from over the bar. But it didn’t look as bad as his arm. Bone stabbed through the skin, a garish wound just above his elbow. It was far beyond his ability to deal with, and Trott glanced up in search of someone trustworthy.

Smith hovered a few feet away, between Trott and the couple of girls peering curiously from the doorway. He ran a hand through his hair, an uncharacteristic sign of nerves. The chains on his leather jacket swayed, a barely audible jingle.

“Your buddy chased him out,” Smith offered.

Trott blinked, thinking. Sips could take care of himself with some drunk asshole vampire. Hopefully he’d drag the bastard back so Trott could deal with the situation personally. He nodded, and used one of the bar towels to wipe blood off Ross’ face.

“Ross, keep talking for me.”

“Sorry, Trott, it was my fault.”

“Breathe.” Trott wrapped the bloody shirt around Ross’ arm, ignoring his short, sharp scream. Smith didn’t flinch at the sound, and that made up Trott’s mind.

“I need you to take my bartender to the hospital.” He stroked Ross’ hair gently, a silent apology for the pain.

“Shit, okay.” Smith crouched to help Trott lift Ross to his feet.


End file.
